Shadows
by BellaNicoleVikara
Summary: "Your other question?" He turned around to face her, and he was shocked to find her face only inches from his own. He cast his eyes downward and tightened his grip on his sword. "If I am ever to see you again, what would I call you? What is your name?" The woman just stared at him, her eyes piercing and otherworldly. "That is a good question, Thorin, son of Thrain." (First fic)
1. Prologue

The first time, he saw her in a dream.

Or that's what he told himself, early on. The heir to the throne of Erebor could never really trust his own judgements when it came to his subconscious. He often mistook his dreams for reality, and sometimes he believed his reality was only a dream. In this case, however, he could not decide if the night's events were reverie or reality. The dwarf prince came to believe that his experience was a vision- a sign from a higher being of the horror that was to unfold the very next morning.

Thorin paced restlessly around the camp in anticipation. The wind played about his hair, lifting it off his shoulders and sending chills down his spine, for it was cold in the mountains. Tomorrow they would attack Moria, and the orcs that resided there. They would take back their beloved mines and vast cities, and they would build up the Halls of Durin once more. As Thorin paced quietly through the rows and rows of tents, he found himself wondering how his allies could sleep on the eve of battle. How they could so blindly put aside all their worries and fears and succumb to something as mundane as sleep. The thought sickened him. Moria's forces were powerful, and their numbers many. Did his comrades truly believe that this battle would be so easily won?

In his musings Thorin wandered from his camp and into the bowels of the mountains. He picked through patches of woods and he sauntered by large boulders. In his deep contemplation he trudged by a small opening in a jagged wall of rock, a cave entrance. The mouth of the cave was adorned with dead vines and moss. Thorin would have just passed the cave, had it not been emitting a faint blue glow.

The glow was vague, and could have easily gone unnoticed by a common man, but Thorin was no man. His vision was excellent and there was no mistaking the peculiar light that spilled from the mouth of the cave. He had no idea why he was so perplexed by such a sight, as there were odd sorts of occurrences similar to this one happening in the Misty Mountains for centuries. All he knew was that the light drew him to itself, and before he knew it, Thorin was standing in front of the mysterious cave entrance, with not a clue how or why he had appeared there.

Thorin hesitated. His mind told him to listen to reason, every inch of this cave screamed danger. However, Thorin was a dwarf, stubborn and proud, and he believed he could handle any force behind the faint blue glow, after all, he thought with a smirk, it would be much more entertaining than listening to the deafening snores of the dwarves back at camp.

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, Thorin advanced into the luminous haze without so much as a backward glance to the entrance. As he stealthily moved through the cave, he could see the glow become brighter, and he unsheathed his sword as quietly as he could, assuming he was close to the source of the glow. He approached a turn in the pathway, and the glow was brighter here than anywhere else. He looked beyond the turn and could clearly see that the pathway emptied into a small cavern. When he turned the corner he expected to face a blast of blue light and some unknown foe at the center of it. One more step. Just one more. His grip tightened on his blade and he raised his foot to jump out from the corner, ready to strike.

Except he never got to strike.

"You are Thorin, son of Thrain." A whisper in the night, less then an inch from his ear.

Thorin whirled around, sword at the ready. He looked frantically for the owner of that eerie whisper, but he found no one. His heart pounded wildly as he backed up into the middle of the cavern, where there was no blast of blue light nor any unknown foe at the center of it. The glow surrounded him now, coming from nothing in particular. Again, Thorin searched high and low for any sign of movement. He listened closely for an echo or some indication that he was not alone.

But all he found was silence and musty air.

He stomped his foot in annoyance, causing a loud sound to echo off the cavern walls. And in that moment, he heard something that sent chills up and down his spine and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Laughter.

Faint, cold laughter that Thorin immediately placed as female. His pursuer was female.

In a fit of shame and humiliation at having been deceived by a female, no doubt an elf, Thorin cursed loudly. "What are you playing at, woman?" He shouted at the dark cavern walls.

He did not want nor expect an answer, but he received one nevertheless, clear as day. Her voice was cold and powerful, and each word was practically dripping with sarcasm and contempt.

"What am I _playing at_, you ask? How...rude of you to speak to me in such a fashion in my own home...I do believe it was you who came stumbling into this cavern not too long ago, was it not? Therefore, I have more of a right to ask the questions here, master dwarf. And I will ask again-you are Thorin, son of Thrain, am I correct?"

Thorin couldn't believe his ears. This woman was insane to think he would so willingly answer all her questions, and _oh_, the way her voice was filled with conceit and pride made him want to drive his fist through the solid rock walls of the cave. She couldn't be serious, though Thorin knew in his heart that the woman meant every word that she had said. He devised a plan in his head: a hasty, childish plan, but a plan nonetheless.

"Woman, I have never met you in my life. Your witchcraft called me to you, and brought me to this very cavern. I followed the light, you see." He gestured to the radiant light all around him, knowing that wherever the woman was, she could most definitely see him. "I will tell you my name, and anything else you may want to know, for I have nothing to hide, but-" his lips curved upward into a slight smirk, "you must answer my questions as well, for I have many. Tis' only fair. What say you?" He looked around the cavern, as if the cold stone walls were the woman herself.

He was answered with silence.

Very well. If the woman would not talk, neither would he. He shifted his grip on his sword and started for the entrance, but then a hand came flying out of nowhere, and Thorin was knocked to the ground, his hand empty without his sword. He sat up, and what he saw made his eyes widen.

There she stood, snarling at him, with the point of his own sword pressed to his throat. Thorin did not dare make a move-he now knew that this woman, whoever she was, was in no state to be trifled with. Her garments were like no others that Thorin had ever seen before-she wore tight black pants made of genuine leather, a gray shirt frayed so much that it barely covered her stomach, black boots that were also made of genuine leather, and a gray pelt draped across her shoulders like a cloak. She was small in stature, the same height as Thorin himself, but much too slender to be a dwarf. Her hair was unkempt and knotted, falling past her waist like a waterfall of black ink. Dirt covered her face and her limbs. Most fascinating were her eyes. They were orbs of pure silver, shining as bright as the Arkenstone. Nearest her pupil, Thorin could make out the faintest trace of green. She looked young, but from her expression, from her voice, and from her eyes, Thorin could tell she was not. This woman was very, very old. She was primitive.

She moved swiftly, silently, and she bent down near him, the tip of the sword never leaving his throat. "Did I not warn you..." She whispered dangerously, "did I not say that I had the right-the only right, to ask questions here..." Her words were a invitation, a jeer. They encouraged Thorin to try to fight her, to escape, to do something other than submit to this strange angel, but Thorin reluctantly swallowed his pride and pushed his instinct away.

"You did," he said carefully, his voice hoarse, "and I am who you say I am. I am indeed Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, heir to the throne of Erebor." He looked up at her, "and my kin has come to destroy the orcs that reside in Moria below." He searched her face, which remained impassive, and finally, he resorted to his last hope. He pleaded with her, a tactic that Thorin would only use if he had no other option. "Please. Spare my life. I will do..." He hated it. Outright hated saying it, but he had to. "...anything you ask of me." He looked helplessly at his captor, who's expression had now turned to one of...was it panic he saw etched on her face?

Completely disregarding his plea, she hastily changed the subject, which surprised Thorin. The woman seemed like the type who enjoyed having others in her control, yet she dismissed his entreaty without a word. "You say your kin has come to destroy the orcs of Moria." It was not a question, Thorin could tell. Her deadpan tone revealed none of her emotions.

Thorin nodded tentatively. "Yes." He replied, matching his tone to hers as best he could.

The woman stared past him for a moment, then lowered her gaze slowly, as if mourning the death of a loved one. After what seemed like years she spoke. "Do not do it." She whispered, and for the first time Thorin heard a trace of emotion in her voice. "Do not put your life and the lives of others in jeopardy. I've been in those mountains-" She rose suddenly with Thorin's sword still in hand, and paced to the nearest wall of the cavern. Her back was to him, and her voice echoed off the walls. "The sheer number of orcs that infest the halls of your fathers is unfathomable. A sea of demons, all wielding crude axes and swords, a symphony of sickening scrapes of metal upon metal, a chorus of jeers and shouting, all rowdy and brash. They will destroy you."

Immediately after she had said this, Thorin's head swarmed with questions again. How did she know? Had she seen? If what she said was true, then how in the name of Durin did she get out alive? The woman turned then, as if on cue, and stared at Thorin while speaking, her eyes never leaving his. "I sense your disbelief. You wonder how I know all of this."

Thorin stood up slowly. "Yes..." He murmured, another string of questions hanging in his mind.

The woman nodded, and hesitantly, she stepped closer to him, close enough so he could see the myriad of scars on her arms, shoulders, and neck. Thorin resisted the urge to gasp. How had she survived? How in Durin's name had she survived?

Again, she answered his internal question like she had just read his mind. "I fought long and hard, Thorin, son of Thrain..." She said. "But I was weak then, and now..." Her face turned ashen, "now I believe I could easily kill them all. By myself. You see, I am no man, nor am I an elf or a dwarf. I am no orc, and I am not a wizard either. I am not a hobbit or even a ranger...but no matter, I would not kill them, even now."

Thorin couldn't stop himself. "Why?" He blurted, his pride rushing back to him, his status remembered.

The woman made a subtle hand gesture in the air and shrugged. "As long as they do not know I am up here, and they do not anger me, I see no reason to reveal myself to them, and cause further harm to myself."

Thorin had to admit-she was smart. She preferred to keep her distance from matters that she need not concern herself with rather than force herself into them, like Thorin himself would have done. Something about her tone when speaking of Moria and the orcs told Thorin that she had much experience and a horrific past. He almost pitied her, but then remembered her ability with a sword, and her scars. Thorin's pity was replaced by a small amount of respect for the woman.

The woman. She had silently moved to the entrance of the cave, Thorin could see her silhouette against the rising sun. She paced toward him again, and stopped about a yard away, raising Thorin's sword.

"The dawn comes fast, and you have been here far too long. I should not have told you this much..." For a moment Thorin feared that she would kill him, but then she surprised him yet again. "Here." She handed him his sword by the hilt, the point down. "I do not fear you, nor do I believe you will tell anyone of this...encounter. Remember what I have told you about Moria. They will destroy you." Thorin grasped the hilt of the sword, and his hand brushed hers. He gasped. Her hand was ice cold.

She only smiled timidly. "Did I not say that I was no man, nor elf, nor dwarf, nor any species known to your kind, Thorin, son of Thrain..." She looked into his eyes for what seemed like the longest time, and then Thorin spoke.

"If I ask you but two questions, will you give me a straight answer for both?"

She tilted her head, considering. "It depends on the questions, master dwarf..."

"If your species is not known to me, nor anyone else, then what are you?"

She lowered her gaze for a moment, then her eyes met his again. "I never said I was a particular race, though I will assume that if I do belong to a group, there is but one member of the group, and that is myself. Your other question?"

Thorin was shocked at her answer, but he did not show it. Instead, he sheathed his sword and merely nodded. His eyes bored into hers, and he started to back away, unsure if he was willing to ask his next question, unsure if the matter was too personal. As he began to exit the cave, her voice rang out around him.

"Your other question?"

He turned around to face her, and he was shocked to find her face only inches from his own. He cast his eyes downward and tightened his grip on his sword.

"If I am ever to see you again, what would I call you? What is your name?"

The woman just stared at him, her eyes piercing and otherworldly. She put her hand on his shoulder, making Thorin shiver. "That is a good question, Thorin son of Thrain." All at once Thorin felt himself slump a little, his eyelids drooping. His vision blurred and the woman's voice became fainter and fainter. "I will tell you..." Her voice was no more than a whisper now. "But I will not say it aloud..." Thorin shut his eyes and felt himself falling, spinning faster and faster, spiraling out of control, slipping away from her. He tried desperately to cling to her, the feeling of her hand on his shoulder growing more obsolete by the second. He thought he heard her murmur something, but the words were incomprehensible. His mind grazed over the night's events repeatedly, for Thorin did not want to forget. He would never forget. He fell faster and faster until the world around him was naught but a blurry tornado, and then everything was black.

His eyes snapped open.

He was lying in his tent at camp, wearing what was clearly sleeping material. His clothes were folded neatly in a pile in the corner of the tent, and his sword lay sheathed on a small table by the door. He thought long and hard about the events of the night before. The cave. The blue glow. The woman. Moria. Moria...she had said something about Moria, how it was unwise to attack. She had shown him scars. Millions of scars. She had told him that she was the only one of her kind, which he apparently had never heard of. He had asked her name. Her name...? What had she said? He couldn't remember. Thorin lay back and racked his brain, desperately trying to remember, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall what she had said after _I will tell you_. He forced himself to think about something else while getting up, preparing for battle, and stepping outside. He looked toward the patches of forest and the boulders that lay outstretched before him on the somewhat flat slope of the mountains. He squinted at them, like they might hold the answer.

Suddenly he felt a tug on the corners of his mind, a calling. His instinct told him to run for the direction of the patches of forest and boulders, but he stayed behind, willing himself to continue in his efforts to prepare for the attack on Moria. It was only hours later, when Thorin was trudging up the mountain with his kin to the said entrance of Moria when he heard it.

It was little more than a whisper at first, a small sigh of the wind. It spoke of old tales and myths, of legends and warriors. The whisper grew into a hum, the hum grew into many voices, all cold and powerful, all ethereal, speaking of a time before Middle Earth itself, a time that predated any written records. Slowly the voices grew louder and louder until Thorin wanted to pierce his eardrums with his sword, so that he could hear their earsplitting cries no more. His hands flew to his head, he wanted to shut the voices off, but he didn't know how. He wished he could block them out. His mind pleaded with the voices, begging them to stop, just wishing they were gone, that he could move on. _Please_, he thought over and over, _make it stop, make it stop_!

Then, in an instant, the voices ceased their mindless babble. Thorin slowly uncovered his ears and stood up, for he had fallen to his knees at the sounds. He reassured his comrades that he was fine, and he kept walking. He had almost reached the said gate of Moria when he stopped dead. A single voice rang through his mind, a distinct and one of a kind voice that could belong to no other than the woman. It was proclaiming one word over and over, each time becoming clearer. Then suddenly, Thorin remembered what she had said the night before. Her voice was ringing in his very ears, repeating her own name.

_Shadows_.

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**So, how is it so far? this is my first fic, so please, don't send me flames. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, though.**

**There's more to come on this, I'll update as soon as I can.**

**Reviews are love.**

**-Nicole**


	2. The Unofficial Protector

**Ok, so chapter one is up. I did use some direct quotes from the movie, just to let you know. If there is some type of spelling error or a context issue, please tell me, your constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I OWN NOTHING! I don't own the Hobbit, or anything else mentioned in the novel except my OC, Shadows. I also don't own Thorin. Believe me, I wish I did, but I don't. Thorin and everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien. Ok, I'll shut up now, without further ado, chapter one:**

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Snarl. Growl. Hiss. A battered steel helm. Rotting teeth. Yellowing, stretched skin. A sickening crunch. An inhumane screech. The scrape of metal on metal. Footsteps on the timeworn paths of the forest floor. A long black curtain is swept away from the masterpiece-two very old orbs of silver.

Spy, strike, slay, repeat. It was the only way Shadows knew how. She brushed her hair from her face and started briskly down a long, winding path littered with dead leaves and fallen branches. A pile of thirteen dead orcs lay behind her, their supplies and weapons stolen by their conquerer. She had to be careful when dealing with orc camps, since one of the pack could easily escape with knowledge of her whereabouts. She certainly wasn't about to have her cover blown wide open after ensuring the old tales about her were reduced to nothing short of myth. It had been exactly 162 years since Shadows had revealed herself to any other inhabitant of Middle Earth, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

She still remembered the look of confusion and fear on the dwarf prince's face when she called out to him in that musty old mountain cave so long ago. He had stood his ground for some time, until he had no other option but to plead with her for his life. Thorin was a challenge-and Shadows was one to pursue challenges. She had been quietly tracking Thorin ever since that day. She would reside on the outskirts of the town he took refuge in, close enough to see but far away enough to never be seen. She had deterred his enemies many times, though Thorin had no idea it was she who protected him. Perhaps he believed that the Valar were with him, or that he had some foreign gift which showered him in never-ending luck. In fact, Shadows thought of herself as Thorin's own unofficial protector, therefore wherever he was, she would be, keeping a close eye on him.

On this particular occasion Shadows was tracking the dwarf prince again-this time to a small western town called Hobbiton. She had overheard Thorin speaking with Gandalf The Grey in Bree almost a year before. The two spoke of Erebor, Thorin's homeland, which was taken by a dragon from the North long ago. Thorin planned to slay the dragon and reclaim Erebor, which by his ancestry was rightfully his. Gandalf had most recently told Thorin to meet him and the rest of his company at a small residence in The Shire called Bag End. "There," Gandalf had said, "you will find a potential...burglar." The conversation had sparked Shadows' interest and she decided she wanted to be witness to this peculiar meeting.

And so months later, Shadows set off to the place called Bag End in the town called Hobbiton which was located in The Shire. She vaguely recalled seeing hobbits before, though she had never spoken to one. She had not the slightest idea what to expect, and she could tell that Thorin was just as hesitant to venture into this western town. She took the long, endless pathways in the forest of Bree, dispatching small orc camps when she came across them. Since Azog the Defiler had slew Thorin's own grandfather, Thror, at the battle of Azanulbizar, Shadows' view on orcs had changed greatly. She vowed to avenge Thror, even if it took her until the end of time to do so.

Honestly, Shadows had no idea what drew her to Thorin Oakenshield. She knew he was a strong fighter, a natural leader, and an intelligent strategist, but she also knew he was very trustworthy. Shadows had only revealed her name to him that night in the cave because of her absolute certainty that Thorin would not inform anyone of her existence. She couldn't explain why, but she had a strong feeling of security when it came to the dwarf prince.

It was a clear night when Shadows found her way to the small town of Hobbiton. She breathed in the cool, crisp air as she wandered past cozy little homes tucked under perfectly rounded hills. She seemed to be the only one awake in this quaint little town, but she by far preferred the silence than a small hoard of hobbits tottering after her and whispering to each other about her most unexpected arrival. She continued down what seemed to be a main road until she came across a pub. Inside she could hear the clanking of tankards and rowdy laughter.

Should she ask for directions? Shadows had been ambling around in endless circles for nearly an hour, and she was getting tired of it. Unfortunately, she had lost sight of Thorin back in a neighboring village called Bywater, and she had to rely on her own very poor navigation skills to find her way around. She started for the small wooden door when she caught sight of a figure approaching the pub. She could only make out the figure's silhouette against the soft glow of candles spilling out from windows, but she could see that the figure had messy, braided hair, a long cloak, and heavy footfalls.

Thorin.

He made to quickly pass the pub without drawing attention to himself but at the last second, he stopped. He slowly entered through the rounded door and confronted a barmaid who was serving a pair of rather old looking hobbits.

Thorin cleared his throat. "Excuse me, lass." The rowdy laughter and the clanking of tankards ceased as everyone stared at the foreigner in their pub.

The blonde waitress looked up at him in fear. "Sir?" She squeaked.

Thorin backed up a little, as if to make himself look less intimidating. "I am here searching for a residence called Bag End, and it seems I have...lost my way." His gaze dropped at the end of the sentence. "I would not ask for directions if it were not urgent."

The barmaid looked at him skeptically for a moment, then relaxed. "Of course, sir. Jus' keep going on up this road 'ere, then take a left, then a right, then you jus' keep going on up that road 'till you see a great hill, and there's your stop."

Thorin nodded once, then reached into his pocket and dropped a large golden coin into the empty tankard she was holding. Her mouth fell open. "Thank you, lass, I appreciate your assistance." Without a word he stepped out into the night, and disappeared around the corner. He didn't even so much as glance in the general direction of the cloaked figure pressed up against the side of the building, hair blowing in the breeze and silver eyes following his every move.

Shadows let out the breath she was holding when Thorin was out of earshot. That was close. Damn that dwarf and his way of appearing at random, unexpected intervals! She followed after Thorin, making sure to keep enough space between them. At least she knew where she was going now that he had asked for directions. Hmph. Better Thorin than her, she supposed.

About fifteen minutes later Thorin approached a large hill with a green wooden door embedded in the side facing them. He marched up the staircase and pounded once, twice, thrice on the door. The chink of silverware and the muted song singing coming from the inside of the home ceased. Shadows crept past the doorway to the left side of the hill, where she came across a small, open window. Perfect. Not only would she be able to observe the meeting, she would be able to hear as well. She hopped the fence, ducked under the window and lifted her gaze ever so slightly so that she could see even though her face was cloaked in darkness.

Once inside, Thorin made his way to the dining table and sat down at the far end, facing Shadows' window. Shadows shifted her weight and ducked even lower. Great. The one person in the home that would recognize her in a heartbeat had to be sitting in the only chair facing her window. She pulled her hood down further to shield her face from view. The dwarves took their seats on the sides of the table as the only hobbit in the house placed some type of soup in front of Thorin. Thorin sniffed at it, then hesitantly lifted the small silver spoon and tasted it. Satisfied, he continued to eat.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" A white haired dwarf to the left of Thorin asked, "Did they all come?"

"Aye," Thorin replied, "envoys from all seven kingdoms."

The other dwarves at the table cheered and slapped each other on the back. Gandalf nodded at Thorin and smiled.

"And what do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" A wild looking dwarf with tattoos on his head and two axes strapped to his back spoke up. Thorin's gaze faltered for a moment, and Shadows knew that Thorin didn't want to believe what he was about to say.

"They will not come." Thorin replied gravely. The group murmured in disappointment, and Thorin continued, "They say this quest is ours and ours alone." Each dwarf sat in silence for a moment, lost in their own thoughts.

"You're going on a quest?"

The hobbit stepped into the room timidly, his head tilted to one side in confusion. Gandalf stepped to the side, so that the hobbit could edge in closer next to him.

"Bilbo," Gandalf said, surprised at the hobbit's sudden inquiry. "Yes, we are indeed going on a quest." Perfect. Shadows edged in a little closer, determined to hear every word spoken about this quest.

"Far to the east," Gandalf began, withdrawing an old and tattered map from his robes, "lies a single solitary peak." He pointed to something on the map, which now lay open on the table. Shadows strained to see what the wizard was pointing to, but to no avail.

The hobbit called Bilbo peered over the map with a candle in hand. "The Lonely Mountain..." He murmured. Shadows silently thanked the hobbit for his seemingly useless comments.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold," another dwarf said. "When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."

Shadows leaned in somewhat as to hear every word spoken. She hoped Bilbo's curiosity would make itself known again, so that the dwarves would linger on the subject of the dragon.

"What beast?" It seemed that she would soon be indebted to this naive hobbit.

"That would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible." The dwarf to the right of Thorin began to explain. "Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals-"

"Yes I know what a dragon is," Bilbo replied sarcastically. Shadows had the urge to laugh, but she stuffed her fist in her mouth. She was beginning to like this hobbit more and more.

Suddenly a young dwarf stood up. "I'm not afraid!" He declared, "I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!" The other members of the company rolled their eyes as the young dwarf sat down, blushing and humiliated. Shadows had to applaud him, at least his heart was in it.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," the white haired dwarf spoke again. "But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best...nor brightest..."

The hilarity mounted, and the dwarves began to groan once more. A blond dwarf seated directly in front of Shadows' window silenced the throng.

"We may be few in number," he began, "But we're fighters, all of us, down to the last dwarf!" It was evident that the blond carried the same commanding aura as Thorin.

The dwarf seated to his immediate left continued his argument. "And you forget we have a wizard in our company! Gandalf would have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!" At this another uproar was sparked. Shadows stuffed her fist in her mouth again to keep herself from laughing as Gandalf tried his hardest to change the subject. She only realized a small giggle had escaped her lips when each and every person in the room turned to stare wordlessly at her window.

In one swift movement she dropped to the ground below her, crouching just beneath the window, clinging to the hill. She heard someone approaching, and she edged to the right, her entire back flat against the hill and her hood drawn. The blond dwarf that was seated in front of her leaned out the window, looking to the left, then to the right, then disappearing back inside the room.

Shadows let out the breath she was holding for the second time that night. She heard the blond dwarf mutter something about the wind once he was seated again, and only after the dwarves had resumed their babble did she peel herself off the side of the hill and move away from the window.

That too had been close. Extremely close. Shadows could not afford to be discovered, especially by Thorin or Gandalf. Gandalf probably didn't remember Shadows, but Thorin certainly did. Thorin's recognition and Gandalf's extensive knowledge of the history of Middle Earth could possibly betray Shadows' true nature to not only the dwarf and the wizard, but to the entire company.

Shadows considered leaving. She had heard enough, after all, and this way she could sneak off into the woods for the night and wake at dawn to follow Thorin to his new destination, wherever that may be. But even so, she still had questions, questions that observing more of the meeting could answer. How were the dwarves to get into the mountain? What was their plan? What path would they take? And what of the hobbit? What role did he play in such a quest? In the end, Shadows' curiosity won over. She moved stealthily back to the window, crouching down and vowing not to make a sound.

Once she was settled in her hiding spot again, she observed the company. Gandalf was holding out an oddly shaped key.

"It was given to me by your father," Gandalf said, "by Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now." He slowly held out his hand. Almost gingerly, Thorin took the key from Gandalf and held it up for the rest of the company to see. He stared in awe at the markings on it for a short while before pocketing it.

Gandalf pointed to more markings on the map. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls. We could be able to enter the mountain if we can find this passage but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies somewhere hidden in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it, but there are others in Middle Earth who can." The dwarves looked around at each other, puzzled, and Thorin raised his eyebrows at Gandalf in inquiry.

"The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage, but if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done." Gandalf continued. He looked around at the rest of the company who nodded in agreement, and the young dwarf spoke again.

"That's why we need a burglar..." He added.

At this the hobbit was thrust back into the limelight. "A good one too..." Bilbo said matter-of-factly, "an expert, I'd imagine."

A dwarf sitting to the left of Thorin questioned him. "And are you?" He asked loudly.

Bilbo looked at the dwarf, confusion plain on his face. "Am I what?" He asked.

The throng erupted into a fit of rowdy laughter. "He thinks he's an expert!" Someone yelled.

The hobbit tried desperately to quiet the jeers. "No, no, I'm not a burglar!" He cried. "I've never stolen a thing in my life." Some of the dwarves nodded in agreement, others groaned in annoyance. Another argument broke out, and this time it was Gandalf who stopped it.

A black shadow crept down the walls of the small room as Gandalf's voice grew deeper and much more intimidating. "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" The dwarves received Gandalf's outburst in silence, and when the shadow began to fade Gandalf spoke again, satisfied that the attention was on him once more.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. They can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the scent of dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." Still Bilbo tried to protest, but the company ignored his fruitless objections and kept their eyes fixed on Gandalf.

Thorin contemplated for a moment, then sighed quietly in defeat. "Very well," he said, "give him the contract."

The white haired dwarf gave Thorin a folded up piece of paper, which Thorin thrust into Bilbo's hand. Bilbo unfolded the paper and began to read it to himself. Thorin stood up suddenly and Shadows ducked instinctively, checking to make sure she was still hidden. He turned to Gandalf, leaning in to whisper something in the wizard's ear. Gandalf nodded solemnly.

Shadows stepped away from the window again to consider the events of the meeting. Thorin and a company of twelve dwarves, Gandalf the Grey, and possibly Bilbo the hobbit were going on a quest to reclaim Thorin's homeland, which Smaug had taken over long ago. Gandalf had given Thorin a key, which unlocked a secret door to Erebor. There was text on the map that needed to be read to understand the riddle of the key and the secret passage. Finally, the company needed Bilbo to act as a burglar of some sort. Shadows pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed. She needed to rest if she wanted to follow these dwarves all the way to Erebor.

She lingered by the place called Bag End for just a short while longer, devising a plan in her mind. She would get some rest in the trees behind Bag End tonight, then wake when the sun rose and wait for Thorin and his company to start for the road to Erebor. From there, she would follow about a mile behind him, just keeping watch. Shadows crept around the hobbit hole to the small patches of woods. She found a large, tall tree with sturdy branches and climbed it easily, until she came across a large branch that was rigid enough for her to sit on. Shadows relaxed against the hard trunk of the tree and closed her eyes. She willed herself to be silent as a ghost, listening to the sounds of the night around her. Her thoughts became blurry as the faint sound of low, rumbling voices lulled her to sleep.

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold  
To dungeons deep and caverns old  
We must away ere break of day,  
To find our long-forgotten gold_

_The pines were roaring on the height  
The winds were moaning in the night  
The fire was red, it flaming spread  
The trees like torches blazed with light..._

* * *

**Okay, so I know this chapter was kind of boring, I promise there's more action in the next chapter, and maybe, just maybe a certain dwarf will catch a glimpse of Shadows. Reviews are like cookies, the more, the better, but nobody likes the burnt ones, so please, ****_please _****don't burn the cookies! Thank you.**


	3. The Silent Reunion

**I should probably warn you about this chapter, it has some violence in it. I promised more action in the next chapter, and low and behold, we have some major action.**

**Also, I wrote this pretty fast, so if it has any grammar mistakes please, please, let me know so I can go fix them. Thanks for your continued support, I'm so happy with the attention this story is getting!**

* * *

The first traces of dawn stretched across the sky when Shadows opened her eyes. She slowly stretched and scanned the ground below her before slipping off the branch with ease and landing on a damp patch of grass beneath the tree. What time was it? Was the company awake yet? She looked around at the woods surrounding her, as if they might hold the answers.

Shadows crept toward the edge of the forest, careful to remain hidden as always. Staying hidden had become a sort of habit, since she spent so much of her time skulking around in the dark anyway. After checking to make sure there were no dwarves in the area behind Bilbo's home, she darted out from the patch of trees and peered around the side of the hill into the street below. There were a few horses pawing the dirt impatiently and an older looking dwarf was strapping a pack to one horse's saddle. The dwarf turned to go back into the house and Shadows scampered away so he would not see her.

Good. She still had some time before the company set off. She retreated back to the woods and briefly wondered if the hobbit would be accompanying them on their journey. She searched for her tree again, so that she could retrieve the small bag of weapons and other resources she carried with her from place to place. Shadows proceeded to climb the tree when she heard the small snap of a twig. She stopped dead.

A short distance away from her, further into the woods, a young dwarf knelt, fascinated with something on the ground before him. Shadows reacted immediately. Without a sound, she edged up the tree until she was crouched on one of the branches overlooking the scene.

The dwarf's gaze rested firmly on a small knife about a foot from where he knelt. The blade was adorned with jagged markings and a shining turquoise jewel was embedded in the center of the hilt. The knife gave off a faint bluish glow. Shadows gulped. _That was her knife_. The dwarf looked reluctant to touch the mysterious artifact. Leave, Shadows mentally begged the dwarf, no, don't touch it.

Too late. The dwarf tentatively reached out and pressed his index finger to the tiny jewel. He pulled his hand back quickly, terrified that the instrument could harm him. Once he concluded that his hand was still in one piece, he touched the knife again, but this time, he snatched it from the dewy grass beneath him and stood up abruptly, hugging the knife to him as if it would disappear at any moment. The young dwarf hurried to rejoin the company and he scurried quickly past the branch where Shadows was crouched.

A string of curses rolled off Shadows' tongue as soon as the dwarf was out of earshot. She had to try to get the blade back before Thorin discovered it. He had seen the curious blue glow before, and his memories of her would be stirred if he saw it again. It seemed like only recently, Shadows was having to take extra precautions to stay hidden from the dwarf king. What had changed? Why was her cover slowly being stripped away now, nearly two centuries after Shadows and the dwarf king had met? She was beginning to wonder if the past few nights' events were not happening by chance alone.

**o0o**

About an hour later, the company had set off on the travel worn paths of the Shire, Shadows following about a mile behind them. She kept to the trees lining the dirt roads and stopped only to catch her breath. She knew roughly the way out of the Shire, but she maintained a steady pace anyway as to not lose sight of the company. She could hear them, too-between the pounding of the horses' hooves on the roads, the clatter of the pots and pans in the packs, and the cheerful conversation of the dwarves, Shadows could have heard the lot of them from the next town.

The dwarf who had stolen her knife was riding in the middle of the company, surrounded by other dwarves. Her knife was tucked into a sheath on his belt, hidden away from prying eyes. Shadows knew it was impossible for her to take back the blade while the company was riding. She would have to wait until they stopped for the night and the young dwarf fell into a deep sleep.

In her musings she did not conceal the sound of her movements. She just kept walking, trying to keep up with the pace of the horses the company was riding. However, when a small creature clad in earthly colors darted past her, running vigorously to catch up with the company, she started to run. If that was an orc, it would be slain. Her feet landed lightly on the blanket of dead leaves with every gait. She only stopped sprinting when she was far ahead of the rapidly approaching creature. She stood only a stone's throw from the company.

It dashed up the wide main path, running so fast it was a blur. Shadows unsheathed the short sword attached to her belt, and held it at the ready. The creature advanced, and she could hear it's heavy breathing. Slam, slam, slam. It's feet pounded on the ground, kicking up dirt. Slam, slam, slam. She bent her knees slightly, ready to spring out of the forest to slay the orc.

It's pace faltered when it reached the company, and the company slowed as well. The creature came to a stop, and Shadows nearly screamed with frustration when she saw that it was no orc, but the hobbit Bilbo. She plunged her sword into it's sheath, rolling her eyes at her own quick assumptions. Was she so eager to kill that she was now assuming everyone was an enemy? She turned back to the scene.

The hobbit's words were nearly incomprehensible, he was breathing so heavy. He timidly held up the contract given to him the night before. "I signed it..." He managed to say, cracking a smile.

The white haired dwarf took the scroll from him and squinted at he signature before tucking it away and smiling broadly at the hobbit. "Everything appears to be in order..." He murmured, "welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." At the mention of Thorin, Shadows glanced at him. His face was contorted into something Shadows guessed was disappointment and annoyance. "Give him a pony." Thorin muttered quickly before nudging his horse with his foot and continuing along the main road. The hobbit was lifted onto a small, brown filly despite his excuses, and Shadows started through the underbrush at her original pace, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips.

The afternoon was slow and hot. Shadows broke into a sweat after two hours of brisk walking. When the sun was just beginning to set, she began to jog, advancing on the company so she could learn when they would stop for the night. Her hair stuck to her face and she desperately wished for a stream or a brook where she could appease her parched throat. As the sun sank lower and lower, she cooled down, but she still was still very thirsty.

At last she heard the voice of Thorin ring out from ahead of her, deeming a small clearing a few miles ahead of them their temporary campsite. Shadows slowed down and retreated deeper into the woods so that she could find a place to retire for the night herself. She trekked down a steep hill, looking for a tree to climb until she found one. It was large and very tall, not too far from the company's clearing, and it's bark was thick. Shadows tore a piece of her cloak off and wound it around the tree, so she would remember which one it was when she got back.

She scanned the woods. Her first priority was definitely water. Her throat was like a desert, and her head ached. Shadows took off past the tree and searched for any form of water, whether it be a stream, a brook, even a puddle. She sauntered past hundreds of trees and boulders, not really knowing where she was going. As she headed deeper and deeper into the forest, the last rays of sunlight were extinguished and Shadows was left in total darkness.

She didn't realize that night had fallen until she walked straight into a boulder. Shadows rubbed her head and peered all around her, wondering where on earth she was. Everything looked foreign and alien. The trees loomed above her, unrecognizable. She sighed in defeat. There was no way she was going to find water in total darkness. She turned around and carefully picked her way through the path she had come down, only to find herself in another clearing she had never seen before. Her heart pounded, and panic welled up inside her. She backed up into a tree and leaned against it, feeling small and lonely.

The tree moved. Shadows heard a growl behind her and all at once the tree fell away, leaving Shadows to careen to the ground. She stood up as quickly as possible and whirled around, coming face to face with one of the ugliest orcs she had ever seen. The orc grinned and pressed a blade to her throat. In his other hand he held a torch, the only source of light in the area, but light enough for Shadows. "Look what we have here..." He sang.

Shadows remained as still as possible as more orcs advanced on her. They formed a circle around her, cackling and licking their lips. Shadows' mind reeled, and she thought hard for a plan. She could not-no, she _would_ not be defeated by just another pack of orcs. Shadows slowly slid her hand to her hip, reaching for her sword. Once she attacked, there was no stopping until they were all dead. The blow had to be delivered in exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time.

Shadows barely noticed the other orcs as they closed their circle and moved closer. She kept her gaze downcast, acting as the innocent traveller. The orc in front of her said something, but Shadows didn't hear him. She just stood there, pretending to be shocked into a trauma. Suddenly cold metal came in contact with her cheek, and she stumbled to the ground. She clutched at her face, where hot blood seeped through her fingers. "I asked you a question, girl!" Barked the orc who had hurt her. Shadows slowly stood up. That was it. He would be the first to go.

Shadows unsheathed her sword with a flourish and slashed at the orc in front of her, slicing his neck and driving him to his knees. The torch fell from his hand, and it's fire spread to the dead leaves on the ground. One kick to the head killed her victim, and the other orcs rallied, fresh hate burning inside them. Shadows slashed at everything that moved, sending orc after orc to their death in earsplitting screams. She received a blow to her back, making her double over as she sent her sword flying into an orc's chest. Her heart hammered, and her head spun with the excitement of the fight. The fire intensified and the trees blazed in the night, making the entire clearing one giant torch. The remaining orcs swarmed about her, Shadows dancing in and out of their reach.

One of her opponents wrapped his grubby arm around her neck and she snapped his elbow. He staggered back as another orc jumped on her. Shadows was sent keeling to the ground and the orc's foot bashed her ribs, making her eyes roll back. She slid out of the way just in time before a sword pierced the earth where she had been laying.

She stood up and lashed out at the sea of orcs. She had slain many, but the battle was far from won. She pushed two more orcs down onto another corpse and stabbed them both. Her sword glinted in the firelight as it sliced through yellowing skin. The clashing of swords and the grunts of the orcs echoed through the air. Shadows' body ached, but she could not give up.

There were only seven left now.

A blow on the arm by one of the seven sent her sword spinning out of her hand, and Shadows fell backward onto the ground to catch it, the orc falling on top of her. Her fingers brushed the hilt and she grabbed it, slamming the blade into the orc's back. Six. Her breathing was heavy as she rolled the corpse off of her and parried an attack by yet another orc. Her blade held his weapon at bay and she punched him square in the face before spinning around and slicing his head clean off. Five.

Two more came at her, snarling, as she ducked under one of their blades and grabbed the hilt, forcing the sword upward into it's wielder's chest. With the same sword she slit the other's throat, and both orcs crumpled to the ground. Four. Three.

Only two left now. She was on the homestretch. They came at her simultaneously, pushing her into the wall of fire beside her. She spun around and pushed the one on her left into the flames. The orc screamed it's blood-curdling scream and toppled to the ground. One. One left. She whirled around and parried his attack, but her grip on her sword was loose. The blade fell from Shadows's grasp and she received a painful blow to the head, which knocked her to the ground and made her vision blur. Her hands were pinned above her head by the orc's foot and he had his sword positioned over her abdomen, ready to deliver the final blow. Shadows looked desperately all around her, but her sword was far from reach. Her heart lurched. Would she really die, here and now? By the hand of this lowly orc?

The orc raised his sword, grinning, and Shadows braced herself for the blow. The sword glinted in the firelight, and Shadows shut her eyes, not believing that the last thing she would see was an ugly, dirty orc. She inhaled sharply as the sword pierced her skin.

Suddenly there was a sickening crunch. The sword pressed to her stomach was gone, and Shadows' hands were freed. Shadows heard the orc scream from close by, and she opened her eyes. What she saw made her blood run cold.

The orc's head was sliced off by none other than Thorin Oakenshield.

He was a blur in the firelight, piercing the fallen orc's body over and over again in a fit of pure malice. There was a wild look in his eyes-a look Shadows had seen in the eyes of many cold, ruthless killers.

Looking back, she never really understood her intentions when she jumped to her feet and ran to the dwarf king. She could have just left him, the fallen orc at his mercy, but something was kept her there, and before she knew it, Shadows' legs were carrying her to him. Her hand caught the blade of his sword and she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes, which were wide with shock and realization.

It seemed as if everything moved in slow motion. Shadows slowly released her grip on his sword as he stepped back, stunned at his own actions. Tears formed in her eyes at the resurrection of old memories. The cave, Moria, everything. For decades Shadows had anticipated the day when she and Thorin would meet again, but she had never expected it to happen like this. Now, when the day had finally come, she didn't know what to do, or what to say. The salty tears fell from Shadows' eyes and rolled down her cheeks, stinging the deep gash on the side of her face. The light from the roaring fire made his eyes shine, and Shadows just watched him, unable to form words.

As if flipping a switch Shadows turned from him and sprung into action once more. There was a _fire _surrounding them, and it would reduce them both to ash soon if they did not escape. She looked around at the bodies strewn everywhere, the smoking trees, the burning leaves falling like rain all around them. They would surely get burned if they tried to run through the flames, and if they took to the trees there was no guarantee that they would not get pelted with burning branches and leaves. Breathing became difficult as smoke filled her mouth, throat, nose, and eyes. Thorin too was breathing heavily as he fruitlessly waved the smoke from his face.

Shadows scanned the area still, searching every square inch for a way out. _ They were running out of time. _ Suddenly Thorin's voice sounded behind her. "There!" He wheezed, his nostrils filling up with smoke. "An opening!" He tore off a piece of his shirt and covered his mouth and nose.

Shadows did not have to be told twice. She spun around and followed Thorin's outstretched hand to a small gap in the wall of raging fire. Taking his hand in her own she tore through it, the wild flames licking her body.

They ran past trees and shrubs, vines and bushes. They did not look back as they tore through the forest, gasping for air, their hands still joined. At last they burst forth from the forest and onto the main road, Shadows collapsing on the rocky terrain.

Her body was a mangled mess. Blood was everywhere and her clothes were soaked with it. Her hair stuck to her face and neck. Thorin took immediate notice of this and grabbed her bag. In the heat of the moment Shadows hadn't even noticed him take it. Thorin pulled out a cloth and unlatched a leather water skin from his belt. He soaked the cloth in water and pressed it to the cut on Shadow's face. His touch was surprisingly gentle.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say. After what felt like years Thorin broke the silence. "Shadows." He said, his eyes searching hers. There was nothing else to say. He wanted her to know that he remembered her, and that he had analyzed every little detail of their conversation. Shadows brushed her hair out of her face and took the cloth from him. "Thank you." She said sincerely, "For everything."

Thorin smiled sheepishly at her. "It was my pleasure." He said, stepping back and handing Shadows her bag. "I would not hesitate to ride by you in battle. Your skills are exquisite."

Shadows ducked her head and blushed, not wanting to ruin the moment with a proud or haughty response. She briefly wondered why she was not far from him yet, and another string of panic flared up inside her at the thought. Shadows reached for Thorin's water skin, which lay at her side, and drank greedily, letting the cold water run down her dry throat and cool her down. He smiled and gestured to the skin. "Take it, I have plenty." Shadows nodded her head in thanks and stood up, sheathing her sword and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She would love to stay here, but she could not risk Thorin learning of her plans to follow him to Erebor.

"It was a pleasure to see you again, Thorin Oakenshield," Shadows said convincingly, pretending she would not be seeing more and more of him as the company journeyed on. "Good luck."

"Where are you off to so soon?" He asked suddenly, concern etched all over his face.

Shadows thought quickly of an excuse. "I must be off, I am on a long and treacherous journey, to a lone city in the east." Shadows hoped her lie was convincing, as she tried to stick as close as possible to the truth. "Again, I offer my sincere thanks for your assistance tonight."

Thorin opened his mouth to protest. "You look weak, you could at least rest with my company for the night. We have supplies enough for an army, there is a surplus of-"

"I assure you, I am _fine_. I would love to stay, but I cannot, Thorin Oakenshield, I cannot. Farewell." Shadows said firmly, making the dwarf king's gaze fall to his feet. She quickly backed away from him and started down the road, disappearing into the night. Thorin slowly retreated back to his company after accepting his defeat.

Both Thorin and Shadows did not sleep that night. Each thought of the other, wondering, wishing, so unaware of the pain and loneliness they shared. So unaware of the tears they both cried.

* * *

**...And so now we have the big reveal. I understand that this story is getting a bit confusing, and believe me, as it goes on, the plot will become more and more complex. I will try to make it as simple and easy to understand as possible. Also, if you have any questions, feel free to PM me or post in the review section. I love your feedback and I will do my best to answer any questions that you may have. Also, if you think you might know what/who Shadows is, I would love to hear your ideas. So, yeah. I'll stop babbling now ;) ;)**

**This was revised on 2-7-14. Sorry for any misunderstandings.**


	4. The Bittersweet Aftertaste

The lost king of Erebor would be lying to himself if he said he didn't often think about Shadows of late.

He didn't know why he was drawn to her. Why the thought of her metallic eyes and her algid skin kept him up all night. Her voice, so cold, so otherworldly, sent chills up and down his spine. His persona was normally cold and aloof, but with every thought of her his walls came crashing down. He hated how vulnerable she made him feel, but still he wished he could see her once more, and finally, finally, after so long Mahal had granted his wish.

His memories of her faded as the years passed by, but still the highlights of their first encounter burned fresh in his mind, taunting him. It almost seemed like he was destined to see her again in the woods, since his thoughts of the past few months had been of nothing but Shadows, Shadows, _Shadows_ over and over-and sometimes he couldn't stand it.

After she had so suddenly deserted him in the clearing beyond the forest, he had departed as well, too shocked to form substantial thoughts in his mind. He was kicking himself for letting her go so fast. He had so many questions. How was she? What was she doing so far west? And why in the name of Mahal was she in such a hurry to leave? What was she hiding?

These questions continued to eat away at his mind the next morning. Bombur had prepared a steaming pot full of stew for breakfast, and as tempting as it looked, Thorin could not eat. His stomach felt weak at all that had happened the night before.

As he was rolling up his sleeping mat, the hobbit approached him with a small bowl of the stew. "Th-Thorin?"The dwarf turned to face the hobbit, who thrust the bowl of stew at him quickly. "I was told to give this to you."

Thorin sighed inwardly, and with a great deal of effort he managed to soften his voice a bit. "I am not hungry." He said bluntly, turning away to wind ropes around his bedroll.

The hobbit seemed persistent. "But, just-they told me to-"

When he received no answer he just sighed and placed the stew at Thorin's feet. "Well, if you change your mind..." He turned and hurried away, leaving Thorin in the company of silence once more.

Minutes later they were off. Thorin led the way once again, not really paying attention to the road but to the scenery around it. Everywhere he looked he thought he saw Shadows. A flash of metal here, a flip of long black hair there. He spied silver, unblinking eyes wherever he turned and when he looked twice there was naught but the glare of the sun and a sea of branches and leaves.

Her voice echoed in his ears. _I am on a long and treacherous journey, to a lone city in the east._ Thorin mentally listed the names of the major cities east of Bree. What reasons could Shadows possibly harbor to journey there? He tried not to get his hopes up when the thought of seeing her again crossed his mind. _After all,_ he mused, _they were both heading east, so he could easily cross paths with her again._ _What a surprise,_ he imagined telling her, _to see you again so soon. I am also traveling eastward, to my homeland, to-_

No. _Stop it._ Thorin shook off the fantasy and forced himself to focus on the present. _You have a duty, and you must keep it a secret_, he chastised himself, _for the sake of your people. You do not even know this woman!_ A small voice in Thorin's head countered his argument, as he knew it would. _But you do,_ the little voice purred, _you do know her. Follow your heart...follow your...intuition... _

Thorin almost laughed aloud at the thought.

Intuition? He didn't even know what the word meant anymore. How could he possibly follow his instinct when his instinct had gotten him into this mess with Shadows in the first place? By Mahal, he was slowly going insane.

He tapped his horse with the side of his boot and continued on, occupying himself with thoughts of his current surroundings, and doing everything in his power to keep from thinking of her. Still, when he let his guard down, his attentions were brought back to Shadows once more. Damn her. Damn it all.

**o0o**

She had run. She had run at the speed of light, away from him, away from the forest, away from the entire company. She had run until she was gasping for air, until her legs crumpled beneath her weight. She collapsed under a fallen oak tree and plummeted into dreamless sleep.

Shadows could hardly believe the events that had taken place.

He had saved her life. Thorin Oakenshield had saved her life. He had charged at her attacker without a second thought and had saved her life. Shadows didn't know if she was more angry because Thorin had seen her, or because he had seen her pinned under a lowly, common orc. _I wish he could have found me in a state less...vulnerable,_ she thought sullenly.

She knew it would happen sooner or later. It was about time he saw her again, but when Shadows actually stared him in the face, felt his hand in hers, and heard his low, musical voice, her breath stuck in her throat, and her limbs froze up. Thorin had caught her completely off guard, and the worst part was, she had let him.

She knew she couldn't turn back. Not now, anyway. The forest had been charred black, and besides, she could not risk running into Thorin again. If she was going to help him, she was going to do it indirectly, like a higher being with their protective hand outstretched over the company.

The next morning she devised a plan. She would seek shelter in Bree for the next few days, and when Thorin reached Bree, when all thoughts of Shadows had escaped his mind, she would start following them again. She was reluctant to leave Thorin and his company, since they could be attacked at any moment, but she had no other choice.

It was a little before dawn when she had set off, for once reveling in the feeling of being able to walk at a brisk pace down the pathway rather than having to sneak around in the trees nearby. A morning sun had just started to rise, and the first beams of sunlight stretched across the treetops. The air was warm, though it was not humid. Shadows, having been on the run for several years now, had forgotten what it was like to stroll aimlessly in the forests on a summer morning and to simply appreciate the beauty that surrounded her. She was enjoying herself for the first time in a very long time.

In the late evening the pathway steadily grew wider, and hoof marks were etched into the dirt beneath her feet. She could make out a wooden gateway just beyond the bend of the road. She hadn't been to Bree in several decades, and it had changed, though not entirely for the better. Shadows remembered a Bree that was welcoming and open. A Bree in which villagers could come and go as they please. Now, looking at the cold and uninviting gates before her, Shadows felt small. It was obvious that she could not get through these gates without being seen.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Thorin had already seen her. What was one small, peaceful village of men? Reluctantly she approached the looming gates and knocked twice on the frame. A tiny window in the gate opened and an old and frail gatekeeper appeared. "State your purpose." He said half-heartedly. He looked bored.

Shadows gulped. _Keep it simple._ "I am a lone villager seeking shelter in Bree for the next few days."

The gatekeeper cocked his head and looked Shadows up and down. Her bloodstained clothing, the dirt smeared on her face and limbs, and her unruly raven hair did nothing to support her claim. "Villager, eh?" The gatekeeper murmured, "you don't look like much of a villager to me, little lady." With that, he slammed the window shut, and Shadows was left alone before the massive gates.

She despised using her magic. She felt drained and spent afterward, and she always ended up with a splitting headache. She didn't have much control over it anyways, not since...

She squeezed her eyes shut. "You musn't dwell on such thoughts." She said aloud.

The gatekeeper must have heard her. He slowly opened the window and peered down at her, disgust written all over his features. "Say, what are you still doing, lingering about? Get a move on, there's nothing for you 'ere!" With that he proceeded to slide the window shut again, but this time Shadows was ready. Her hand shot out from beneath her woolen cloak and latched onto the gatekeeper's.

His eyes widened in shock and fear. Shadows eyed him calmly and began to speak in a monotonous voice. "You will allow me to enter your city. You will lead me to a tavern and you will see that I am given a small room for the night."

She lowered her hand. The gatekeeper's eyes glazed over, and he nodded his head robotically. "Of course, milady." He unlatched the heavy gates and allowed Shadows to enter. "Come." He droned, "there is a tavern up this way."

He led Shadows to a modest looking inn, by the name of The Prancing Pony. Shadows turned to him. "Thank you. Return to your post at the gates." She started to turn away, but then an idea struck her. "And," she called out to him, "if you see a group of thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and Gandalf the Grey, allow them to enter without question as well."

The gatekeeper nodded again and scurried away. Shadows waited a short while, and then released her hold on him. She almost toppled at the searing pain that ripped through her head. She despised using her magic.

She entered the tavern and observed the scene. Drunkards were everywhere, slurring their words and bellowing rudely at the barmaids. Their tankards of ale sloshed as they swung them about. A few men sat alone, staring intently into their glasses and keeping silent. She seemed to be the only female in the place that was not a barmaid, which would make hiding a lot more difficult.

She gulped again and headed toward what seemed to be the front desk. A small, balding man stood behind the counter. Shadows leaned against it and cleared her throat loudly. The man whipped around, plastering a smile on his face. "What can I do for you this evening, ma'am?" He inquired.

Shadows shifted her weight and cut straight to the chase. "I need a room here for a few nights." She said. The man eyed her, as if he was expecting her to say more. "Is there any specific room you would like?" He asked. Shadows shook her head. "Anything will do." She pulled a few golden coins from her bag and slid them across the counter.

The man nodded and took the money. "If you would please follow me..." He led Shadows through the sea of drunkards, who ceased their rowdy banter. Shadows could feel their eyes raking up and down her body. She grimaced.

They climbed a narrow staircase to a dimly lit hallway. The man gestured to the first door on the right. "Here we are," he said warmly, "hope everything is to your liking." He proceeded to descend the staircase, but then paused. "Ma'am?" Shadows turned to look at him. "Are you expecting anyone to join you tonight?"

Shadows tilted her head to the side and eyed the man suspiciously. What an odd sort of comment to make. "I do not understand. Elaborate."

The man chuckled to himself, much to Shadows' surprise. "You need not worry, ma'am, if a young gentleman comes looking for you I will direct him to this room. Your secret is safe with me."

Oh. Shadows understood now. The man thought she was seeing someone in secret. She didn't blame him for assuming so. How many women had wandered, alone, into his inn, clad in bloodstained garments and caked with mud? The sight of her certainly did not scream "faithful wife". She considered playing along with his assumption, but then decided against it. What if, suddenly, Thorin just _happened_ to fancy a tankard of ale in Bree?

"Sir, I assure you, I am expecting no one. Thank you for your hospitality." With that, she entered the room and left him standing idly in the hall.

**o0o **

At nightfall they stopped in a thicket of trees. A blanket of leaves covered the forest floor. Thorin dismounted his pony and barked at the company.

Today had been uneventful. The company rode in silence, save Fili and Kili, of course. Once Gandalf and Bilbo had briefly discussed Gandalf's magic, and the other wizards of Middle Earth, but the conversation didn't last long. It had started to rain lightly about midday, but Thorin didn't even notice. He was lost in his own deep thoughts about Shadows.

He had contemplated her race. She had never really told him what she was, but she did mention that there was no other like her in all of Arda. Maybe she was the last descendant of a race lost centuries ago. Maybe she was the offspring of a dwarf and an elf, which explained her height and her beauty both. Thorin shuddered at the thought of elves and dwarves together, _living_ together, _in love, _even. Or maybe she was once a mortal who was so powerful that she had gained immortality. That would explain her appearance. She looked no older than a human girl in her twenties.

He was still musing over the mystery that was Shadows when he heard a commotion behind him.

"Ori, give it to me! It could be dangerous!"

"It's not dangerous, It was in my pocket all day! And it's mine! I found it!"

Ori appeared to be hugging a small knife to his chest. Dori was looming over him, prying the knife from his grasp. The rest of the company watched, and Gandalf was nowhere in sight.

"Just because you found it-" Dori tugged the knife from Ori's steel grip, "does not make it yours."

Ori opened his mouth, then closed it again. He glared at Dori for a few long minutes while Dori studied the knife, from which a blue glow issued. On the hilt there were many rune-like shapes and a small turquoise jewel.

Thorin peered at the knife. It looked so familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on why. The blue glow almost pulled him in, whispering delicious promises of freedom in his ear. _Come away with me,_ it seemed to hum, _let me consume you... _

_Whisper...hum... _

Thorin felt a faint drumming in his ears as he was pulled in by the brilliant blue light. The drumming grew stronger, until the voices began to chant. It was all mindless babble, and Thorin was unable to make out any real words.

_Mindless babble... _

He felt the drumming in the back of his head now. With every beat a shock of pain rippled through his body. The voices grew louder still, and the pain intensified. His hands flew to his head, and he fell to his knees, groaning.

_His hands flew to his head... _

"Thorin!"

The company rushed over to him, shaking him, trying in vain to pull him to his feet. He continued to hold his head, and his breathing grew ragged. Shouts and panicked cries sounded all around him, and the voices in his head began to form words. They spoke of primitive times that predated any written records. Of old tales, myths, and legends.

_Old tales, myths, and legends... _

He broke out in a cold sweat. The knife lay forgotten a few feet away from him, and the voices started screaming, their earsplitting cries were intolerable, he _needed_ it to stop, he _yearned_ for it to cease.

_Earsplitting cries... _

Suddenly it hit him. He sucked in a deep breath and heaved himself off the ground, pushing past the company and throwing himself on the knife. "Shadows!" He yelled, _"Shadows!" _

The world stood still. Thorin lay panting on the ground, clutching the knife loosely to his chest. The company gaped at him as the blue glow enveloped his body. The tendrils of light seemed to caress him like a loving mother. Then suddenly the glow disappeared completely, fading into the night and leaving Thorin immobile on the ground. His eyes rolled back into his head.

The company took action once more, helping him up as he regained consciousness. He wiped the sweat off his brow and limped to a small boulder near the fire. The entire company crowded him, asking him question after question and looking at each other in confusion and fear.

"What happened?"

"Are you okay?"

"Is it dangerous?"

"Are you hurt?"

"What did it do?"

"Why did you scream shadows?"

"We should find Gandalf, I'll go get him..."

"Stop! Give him some air! Die from suffocation, he will!"

The company hesitantly backed away, and the speaker of the command appeared. Thorin sent a silent _thank you_ to the hobbit with his eyes. Bilbo nodded to show he understood.

"I assure you, I am _fine_." He repeated the exact words Shadows had spoken to him the night before. Slowly the company dispersed, though not by choice. Bilbo was herding them away hurriedly. Thorin tried to stand up, but his knees buckled and he collapsed clumsily back onto the boulder, which only increased the pain slowly ebbing away in his head and neck. He cursed loudly, then turned to the hobbit.

"I didn't know you had it in you," he said nonchalantly, "You were the last person I expected to speak up."

Bilbo shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. "You looked aggravated."

Thorin frowned. "Was it that obvious?" He said, again in an indifferent tone.

Bilbo looked at his feet. "Sort of."

Thorin almost chuckled. _Almost_. The hobbit had gained a small amount of his respect today, but not enough to make them '_friends_'. He still believed the hobbit was a burden. Bilbo headed toward the rest of the company, who were speaking in hushed whispers and sending looks of concern Thorin's way every few seconds. He was glad they cared, but he could not tell them about Shadows. _Shadows_. _Oh, Mahal, not_ _now_. He tried his best to avoid thinking of her, but the topic itself was inevitable. On instinct he moved toward the knife and plucked it from the ground. The blue glow was gone, and Thorin no longer heard voices.

He had seen the glow before, and it had affected him the same way. He thought back to the day his kin attacked Moria, and what had happened to him on the way there. On the previous night, Thorin had seen the curious glow for the first time, when he met Shadows. This was definitely the same type of magic, which was completely alien to him. He pocketed the now harmless knife and decided he would ask Gandalf about it tomorrow. It was late, and the worst thing he could do was spend all night wondering about Shadows.

As he rolled out his sleeping mat, however, he could think of nothing else.

* * *

**So, I know this chapter took forever, and I apologize. I had some difficulty finding the time to write.**

**How is it so far? I would love your feedback, and I also want to thank everyone who followed/favorited/reviewed this story. You guys are just awesome. **

**If you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to PM me. I love all your incredible feedback, like I said.**

**Disclaimer: Let's face it. I'm not JRR Tolkien. I don't own Thorin. I really wish I did, but I don't. Much sad. The only thing I own is Shadows.**

**...And, yes, I will try to update as soon as I can.**

**Adios, amigos!**


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